


L'amour conquiert tout

by SilverBells



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo, Sense8 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Sense8 (TV) Fusion, Inspired By Sense8, Multi, sense8 universe
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-10
Updated: 2018-06-10
Packaged: 2019-05-20 15:05:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14896826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverBells/pseuds/SilverBells
Summary: Sensates, or Homo sensoriums, are a species of humans that are telepathically connected to each other. A group of sensates constitutes a cluster, and members of a cluster can connect and communicate with each other wherever they are in the world.





	L'amour conquiert tout

“Is it time?”

“Not yet, Cosette.”

Fantine's breathing echoes in Valjean's ears as he observes the outside of the apartment through its dusty, crooked blinds. All is calm, and has been for hours, but he only turns when he feels Cosette's hand in his.

“All is well, papa,” she says, somehow at peace with her own anxiety. It all depends on her- it's likely, but they can't be sure. Cosette is ever hopeful, though.

“Ah,” breathes Fantine and her eyes are briefly on Valjean, smiling, before they unfocus. Valjean has seen it often; they don't share all connections after all, but this, this is special. Fantine smiles. “I see them,” she says. “They're beautiful.”

This is rebirth.

 

* * *

 

Enjolras looses his grip on the banner, staggers to a halt as a woman in blue, wide eyed and sweaty appears in the crowd before him, smiling through her laboured breathing. He staggers into a barely lit, dirty hall. He falls to his knees on the concrete, on the broken tiles as a sharp pain – not unlike his migraines – shoots through his head and down his spine and he _feels_ them.

Bahorel's eyes widen as he misses the punching bag in front of him, Fueilly's concerned face behind it. He turns out of instinct and hits the mat with his shoulder, then his back. A woman in a blue dress stands on the edge of the boxing ring next to them and stares down at him, looks up at him from a white floor with teary brown eyes. The lights around him are both orange and somehow bright white. The stench of old sweat and sterile plastic hits him as he breathes in sharply through his nose upon seeing them.

Joly's walking stick hits the floor and he both does and doesn't hear it as he stands both in the familiar observation room of his own hospital and that of an unfamiliar one. A woman, who appears so very tired and ill, looks up at him from both operation rooms and she smiles so kindly that he barely feels the twinge of his knee, barely feels the hands of his colleagues on him as they catch him. Pain shoots through his leg and through his head in separate flashes of dual reality.

Eponine stares at the woman behind Gavroche, her instincts screaming to snatch him away, but her body will not move. It knows the blue woman will not harm him, and that she is in pain, sitting on the busted floor of some abandoned place. She sees Gavroche, but he isn't there with her. Her bare feet and then her knees feel the cracks in the floor and the sand of the playground.

Montparnasse exits the shower with a scream, alerting a flurry of footsteps to run in his direction, as a pain not unlike a bullet runs like a current behind his eyes. He doesn't look at the patrons who come bursting through the hall, but only at the pale, beautiful lady who stands in his shower completely dry. He sees a hand, multiple hands in front of him, all reaching for him.

Jehan's hands still on MacDuff's furred head, suddenly glad they put down their tea, as they surely would have dropped it at the sight of a woman standing between the plants on their balcony. Her hands are soft as she pets one, but also rises from her sitting position, pushing herself up as Jehan feels as though they are being dragged down. They feel so much, so suddenly, so incredibly.

Grantaire gasps at the sudden clarity of his vision, as something pierces through the haze of his stupor. The pain in his head is unfamiliar, feels strained, but determined. A vision of a woman, not the woman next to him but an older woman sits on his bed, smiling. She looks like a mother, he decides, before the intensity of what's happening knocks him back on the bed, gasping as he feels the presence of many more people suddenly beside him. He doesn't know what the opposite of loneliness is called, but it is what courses through him as he stands in flickering white hospital lights.

Cosette gasps as she sees her mother, her actual mother, now her cluster mother, in front of her. It's been years and she cries out, not because of the piercing pain in her head, but because of the aching pain in her heart. Fantine reaches for her, and somehow simultaneously to Valjean, who is holding her, weeping openly. They hold each other both in the warmth of their apartment and the draughty cold of the hospital. Footsteps echo vaguely in Cosette's head as she gasps again, but this time together.

They all breathe, deeply, suddenly, the same breath they took twenty years ago, when they were born all in the same moment, in the same rush of life that now connects them. Tendrils of consciousness, of understanding, of connection reach out to and from all of them.

Enjolras stands suddenly in a warm, sunny bedroom. Jehan watches a concerned group of men surround a wet, naked younger man. Cosette watches as a concerned young man picks up a boy she knows is called Gavroche, talking to a girl about- no, exactly her age. Joly leans against a boxing ring not far from a ginger man pushing at Bahorel's shoulder. Grantaire stands in the marching crowd that has stopped at the sudden collapse of one of its organizers. Eponine sits in a windowsill with Jehan's cat. Montparnasse stands in a run-down apartment where moonlight instead of daylight falls through the crooked blinds. They all stand in the operating room of an abandoned hospital somewhere in America, as Fantine holds all of them.  
  
“My children,” she whispers, “you are reborn.”

She keeps holding on, even as armoured men break down the door, even as they drag her from her place in the corner. She keeps smiling at them, even when they haul her away, until the moment someone presses a needle into her arm and she gasps, before fading from view.  
  
Eight newborn sensates are left, gasping and confused.

 

 


End file.
